


Some Say Love

by eerian_sadow



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Canon Typical Violence, Love Confessions, M/M, severe injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-30
Updated: 2008-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:14:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24672172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eerian_sadow/pseuds/eerian_sadow
Summary: When Prowl is severely injured saving Jazz's life, the saboteur becomes desperate to save him as he realizes just how much he cares for his friend.
Relationships: Jazz/Prowl
Comments: 18
Kudos: 51





	Some Say Love

**Author's Note:**

> Notes June 2020: LOOK EVERYBODY! I found a fic that didn't get imported when I pulled my stuff off of livejournal! Oops! Seriously, though, I'm glad I found it because I had forgotten all about it. I _thing_ it was for a challenge at the ProwlxJazz comm when it was still over on LJ, but i'm not sure and I didn't notate that especially well. Also I hadn't found my terminology footing yet when this was written, so that and the style are a bit off from what is normally Me.
> 
> Notes April 2008: this was supposed to be worked on after I finished up Days in Avalon but that didn’t happen. I stalled out on section four and I’m not sure when I’ll get back to it. but, purajo issued this challenge, and the idea nibbled at me for a bit before I started on this.
> 
> Frankly, I’m in love with it. it came out exactly the way I wanted. That doesn’t happen very often, but I’m glad that it did this time. And there’s the possibility of more later, even.
> 
> Takes place on Earth, sometime during season two. Probably after the episode “Changing Gears”.

Jazz felt his systems begin to overhead from the dust clogging his air intakes. As he came back online, too slowly, he assessed the damage he had taken from the falling building and scanned for Prowl.

He found the tactician a few feet away, buried in debris and leaking a frighteningly large amount of energon.

“Primus, Prowl.” The saboteur picked his way across the debris to the other mech.

“I think,” Prowl said softly, “That I have finally found a logical reason to hate Rumble.”

“All it took was dropping an apartment building on you?” Jazz kept his tone as light as he could, not wanting to let Prowl know exactly how worried he was about the amount of damage his scans were telling him the other mech had.

If he didn’t get Prowl to Ratchet—or Ratchet to Prowl—within the next ten minutes or so, there wouldn’t be any reason to bother trying. His Spark ached at the thought.

“No. He was trying to drop an apartment building on you.” Prowl’s voice was even softer, his systems draining power from his vocalizer to run other more essential systems.

There was no real response the saboteur could make to that statement; now was not the time to discuss the implications. The moment passed unspoken, but Jazz knew he’d be brining it up after Prowl was repaired.

He refused to believe his longtime friend would not make it back to base this time.

“You need to go, before Soundwave finds you here.” Prowl was telling him to leave him to die, without actually saying it and Jazz knew it.

“No way, Prowl. I’m not leaving you to his tender mercies.” Carefully, Jazz began pulling debris off—and out of—his friend. “You hang on long enough to get back to base, and I’ll get you to Ratchet.”

“You’ll never outrun them.” Jazz had to turn up the sensitivity on his audios to hear Prowl now. “Just go. Better to know that you got away than for us to die together.”

Jazz shook his head. “Either we both get out, or neither of us does. I’ve never left a man behind and I’m not starting with you. I love you.”

He hadn’t meant to say it. Not now, not ever—unless they were both still alive at the end of the war. But the words were hanging in the air now.

Prowl’s expression, still filled with pain, softened a bit around the edges. “As you wish. Be careful, Jazz.”

“I will,” Jazz said, watching the other mech’s optics darken. He didn’t know if Prowl had gone offline or if he had just shut down his optics to conserve energy. He also wasn’t going to waste time--or Prowl’s life—by asking. He picked up the tactician and ran.

It wasn’t more than a few seconds before he heard the whining of small engines; he was being pursued by Laserbeak or Buzzsaw. Unburdened he might have outrun them, but carrying Prowl slowed him down enough that even Soundwave would be able to outrun him now.

It didn’t matter. He had to get Prowl to Ratchet; everything else took a backseat to that.

The whine of a second set of engines let him know that the other bird-cassette had joined the chase. They fired weapons on his right and Jazz dodged left. It didn’t seem like they were trying to hit him, which meant Soundwave wanted him herded to a specific place.

Prowl did not have time for a prolonged fight. But Jazz might—might—be able to negotiate with Soundwave. He let Buzzsaw and Laserbeak shepherd him toward their master.

When Soundwave stepped out of the buildings and into the street in front of him, Jazz wished he hadn’t lost his pistol when Prowl shoved him out from under the building. The Decepticon had his heat cannon trained squarely on the fleeing Autobots.

“Surrender, Autobot.” Soundwave’s voice was as inflectionless as ever.

“Since when did Megatron start taking prisoners?” They didn’t have time for him to have a conversation with Soundwave, but it was pretty likely that neither he nor Prowl would survive if Jazz stopped to fight.

“Surrender and Prowl lives.” As Soundwave spoke, the remaining cassettes stepped out of nearby alleys and took up flanking positions around their master. “Megatron’s orders do not include him.”

For a moment, Jazz was shocked. Was Soundwave actually offering him a deal? It didn’t matter; they both got back to base or neither of them did.

“Jazz.”

Prowl’s voice was so soft that Jazz wasn’t sure he’d heard it at first; Soundwave gave no indication that he had at all. The saboteur risked a glance down at the tactician.

Prowl didn’t look like he had even twitched. His optics were still offline and one hand was draped across his chest, covering the worst of the damage from the falling building.

But somehow, he had managed to pull his weapon from subspace.

Jazz thought the odds looked much more in their favor now. All he needed to do was take one of Soundwave’s minions out of the fight and the host mech would leave to care for him, orders or no. He had to suppress a grin at the thought.

Carefully he laid Prowl on the street, hoping that it looked like he was taking the deal. If one of the fliers had spotted the pistol, though, it was all over. Gently, he cupped the other Autobot’s hand in both of his, transferring Prowl’s weapon to his own grip.

“We’ll be outta here soon, Prowl.”

Prowl squeezed one of his hands briefly in response.

When Prowl released him, he turned back toward Soundwave and the cassettes. He raised his hand, sighted and fired at Rumble’s face before the communication specialist could react.

“Ahg! My eyes!” Rumble screamed as the acid burned into his optics and faceplates.

Soundwave gave the saboteur a look that was pure malice. Jazz retargeted on Frenzy.

“Now, I’ll let you take Rumble and go.” His voice was much steadier than he felt. “But we both know I’ll hit Frenzy before you get to me if you try anything.”

“Buzzsaw, Laserbeak, guard.” Soundwave turned to Rumble as the fliers swooped down to cover his back.

Soundwave picked up Rumble, who was still screaming, and took to the air without another word. Jazz didn’t know if the he considered the two of them even or not, but from the looks the other cassettes were giving him there would be retribution.

He’d worry about that after he got Prowl back to base. He picked the tactician back up and started running again.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Prowl came back online slowly, the failsafe programs in his battle computer protecting him from the potential of too much input at once. He heard the familiar hum of computers before his optics came back online and knew he was safely back inside the Ark. He could feel the hardness of a repair berth and knew he was laying on his side, probably to keep from over-stressing his aching doorwings. Having a building dropped on him must have damaged them more than he had thought.

“Ratchet?” It was likely the medic would be hovering somewhere nearby.

“He was up all night working on you. Wheeljack finally drug him off to bed about an hour ago.” He felt Spike jump up onto the repair berth next to him. “I’m supposed to call when you wake up. How do you feel?”

“I’ve felt worse.” Prowl was relieved when his optics finally powered up. They were always the first systems to go offline to conserve energy and the last to come back on. It was illogical engineering for a tactician; he would have to ask Wheeljack and Ratchet to reprogram them. “Where is Jazz?”

“Knocked out in the corner with Dad.” Spike grinned. “Neither one of them would go to bed until you were stable, even though Dad nearly passed out while they were working.”

“I hadn’t thought that Sparkplug liked me that much.”

“Dad likes all of you guys that much, even Gears.”

The tactician and the human shared a laugh. They fell into a companionable silence after that, Prowl relishing the feeling of being alive and Spike simply enjoying the company. Prowl found himself being surprised that the human stayed; he hadn’t thought Spike liked him enough to sit with him longer than Wheeljack had asked him to.

After a few minutes, their quiet camaraderie was interrupted by the doors to the medbay opening. Wheeljack gave Spike a reproachful look.

“You were supposed to call when he came back online.”

Spike gave the engineer a sheepish grin. “We were talking.”

“Don’t worry; I won’t tell Ratchet.” Wheeljack’s tone of voice indicated that he would have been grinning if it was possible. “He needs the rest more than Prowl needed you to call us. How do you feel, Prowl?”

“My doorwings still hurt.” 

Wheeljack shrugged. “Not much to do about that. We got them set back in place all right; they’ll just have to heal back up on their own now.”

“Yes, I know.” The tactician tried to look around the room to see Jazz, but he couldn’t move his head enough without jarring his doorwings. “How is Jazz?”

“Scratches and scrapes, mostly. Nothing serious physically, but he looked pretty worried while we were working on you last night.” The engineer gave him a long look. “Is there something you two aren’t’ sharing?”

Spike jumped down from his seat. “This sounds like a serious conversation. I think its my cue to leave.”

Neither mech moved to stop the human as he went out the door.

“I don’t know, Wheeljack. I think I need to talk it over with Jazz before I talk to anyone else about it.” Prowl turned over Jazz’s words in his processor while he talked to Wheeljack. If the saboteur had meant what he had said, then there were serious possibilities between the two of them.

“Sure. You want me to wake him up for you?” 

Prowl had a moment to think that Wheeljack, like Jazz and Blaster, had picked up more human speech than was probably healthy. “Yes, please.”

Wheeljack’s headfins flashed in amusement at the tactician’s words, but he crossed the room to do as he had offered. “You must really be hurting.”

The first words out of Jazz’s vocalizer when he came online were oddly comforting to Prowl. “Is he still okay?”

“He’s fine, Jazz,” Wheeljack replied. “He wants to talk to you.”

Jazz was at his side before the engineer could finish saying “I’ll just leave you two alone, now.” Neither mech really noticed him leave.

“How are you, Prowl?” Jazz looked so concerned, so out of character for himself, that Prowl found himself being worried about the other mech.

“I’m all right, Jazz.” Without thinking, the tactician reached out to take one of the saboteur’s hands in his own. “What about you?”

“You scared me, Prowl. You didn’t respond to anything Ratchet did at first after you got in here and I thought I’d lost you.” Jazz laid his head down on the berth, unable to meet the other mech’s optics. “I was sure I’d lost you, and it was almost more than I could handle.”

“I’m still here, Jazz.” He tightened his grip on Jazz’s hand, reinforcing the words physically. “I wouldn’t be here without you.”

“I know that. I carried you across half of Portland before First Aid met up with us.” Jazz looked up, offended. But he was looking at Prowl finally, and that was what the tactician had wanted.

“That isn’t what I meant.” He leaned up on one elbow, wincing at the pain it caused in his doorwings but wanting to meet Jazz’s gaze fully. “Did you mean what you said in the building?”

“Yes.”

“I held those words all the way back to base. Knowing that you loved me kept my spark from going out, no matter how dim it may have gotten. You kept me alive long enough to get me to Ratchet.” Prowl paused to let those words sink in for a moment. “But I was serious too. I would have rather died alone, buried under all that rubble, and known that you were safe than cause the death of the mech I love.”

He felt strangely relieved after he said the words. As if admitting how he felt had lightened some emotional burden he hadn’t known he was carrying.

“Prowl?” Jazz looked confused.

“I love you, Jazz.” Saying it again definitely felt good, and right.

The saboteur broke into a brilliant smile. “I love you, too, Prowl. I guess I never really thought you’d feel the same, though.”

“I never thought to feel love at all.” He was strangely sad at the thought.

Jazz’s head drooped, ruining the moment and abruptly changing Prowl’s train of thought. “Sorry, Prowl. I’m exhausted. Was up all night watching over you.”

“I know. Wheeljack and Spike told me.” Prowl smiled as he slid back in the repair berth. “Come lay down. I’m not tired yet; I will watch over you.”

**Author's Note:**

> This user encourages all feedback, including keysmashing, emoji, long (or not) comments & Kudos. 
> 
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